


The Baby B's

by o0katiekins0o



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Childbirth, F/M, Gen, Parentlock, Sherlolly - Freeform, mollock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-07
Updated: 2014-10-07
Packaged: 2018-02-20 06:47:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2419022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/o0katiekins0o/pseuds/o0katiekins0o
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A multi-chapter fic based on the 7 B's of attachment parenting:</p>
<p>Birth bonding</p>
<p>Breastfeeding</p>
<p>Bedding close to baby</p>
<p>Babywearing</p>
<p>Belief in the language value of baby's cries</p>
<p>Beware of "baby training"</p>
<p>Balance</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Birth Bonding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John is taken by surprise. Not only by the fact that his best friend has taken a partner and is becoming a parent, but in the way they're choosing to welcome their child to the world.

"There's a pool." John pointed at the large inflatable pool set up in the sitting room of 221b.

 "Yes." Sherlock arched his brow at his friend. "Rather obvious, John, wouldn't you say?" As he lounged on the sofa in his dressing gown opening the paper with a shake. 

"Yes. But _why_ is there a pool in the middle of your sitting room?" John was used to finding strange things at his best mate's flat. He'd found no end of odd and, usually, disgusting items in the time he spent living with Sherlock. But this... This was bizarre. 

"Because it was a devil of a time getting it set up and we don't want to fumble with it while Molly is in labor. Best just to have it ready now. Since her estimated due date is so close."

 "Labor? You mean the two of you plan to have the baby here... In your flat?" John was exasperated. "Doctor Hooper plans to have her baby here? In _your_ flat?"

"Doctor Hooper lives in my flat. It's a home birth, John. This is her home, therefore, pool goes here." Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Home birth? _Doctor_ Hooper, pathologist at one of the best hospitals in the country is having her baby at home?" John just couldn't wrap his mind around it.

"She works in a morgue, John. Not really the environment people usually like to associate with birth. And anyway, you say it like it's a bad thing. Mummy had me at home." 

John laughed heartily at Sherlock's answer, "Word of advice, never try to validate your parenting choices by saying it's what your mother did with you. We've all seen the kind of results she's gotten." 

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at John. Teetering somewhere between being offended and annoyed. "Ahh I see. Medical bias. You think of birth and you equate it with illness or injury. It's a perfectly ordinary process, John. Just like any number of the ordinary bodily functions you manage to do safely on your own every day." 

"I'm a doctor, Sherlock. I've actually delivered babies. I've seen what can actually-" 

"Mmm no you haven't." Was Sherlock's simple response.

John sputtered and became red, "Yes I most certainly have, Sherlock!" John said defensively. "I've been at this doctor game for a while." 

"Women give birth. Others assist. No one delivers babies, John. They're not pizzas." Sherlock's voice was casual and a bit flippant.

John was pacing and running his fingers through his hair anxiously. "Sherlock, this is a big deal... Are you sure you've... Thought this through completely?" 

Sherlock rose his eyebrows "You're asking me if _I_ have thought this through? I could have sworn we've met before. Anyway, it was Molly's idea. We did some research, got a few different professional opinions, and this is what we've decided is best. If you have a problem with it you don't have to be here for the birth." 

"Be here? You want me to be here when your-your..." John searched for the right word to describe Sherlock's relationship with Molly "When Molly gives birth to your baby... In a pool... In the middle of your sitting room?" 

"Well not if you're going to be a diva about it, like you are now. We were rather hoping to foster a stress-free environment. Also we'd prefer you stay out of the midwife's way." Sherlock stretched out on the couch comfortably. 

"Midwife?!" John echoed voice pitching into a frenzy of disbelief. "Yes. She's the expert. If someone gets shot or stabbed we will certainly call upon your expertise, but as that is unlikely to happen the midwife holds rank." He sniffed apathetically.

"I don't know what to say, Sherlock. This is all just too... Bizarre!" John was gesturing broadly with his hands while he spoke.

"What is?"

"Just everything! I don't hear from you for weeks and then Lestrade texts to tell me you've been turning down cases, proper cases!" 

Sherlock sighed and rubbed his face in annoyance. "I told him I'm on paternity leave until further notice." 

"Paternity leave? Sherlock Holmes is taking paternity leave..." John was just repeating Sherlock at this point and he was finding it quite tedious.

"Yes, John." He leaned back in the sofa, lacing his fingers behind his head with a smirk. "One of the many benefits of being one's own boss. I can do what I want." 

 

* * *

 

"Was that John?" A very pregnant Molly asked, waddling out of their bedroom in nothing but a long T-shirt and knickers. She made a beeline to the kitchen. Sherlock hummed his acknowledgment. He was still sitting in his chair when John left. Now he was on his laptop browsing his usual media. 

"There's leftover saag in the fridge." He called to her. She acknowledged nonchalantly and when for the packet of digestives in the cupboard instead. He rolled his eyes. "You should be eating more Vitamin K rich foods. Increases clotting factor for you and the baby." 

"I don't want any saag, Sherlock. I just want a biscuit, please and thank you." She returned to the sitting room and stretched out on the sofa. "What'd John say about the pool?" She asked casually. 

"Oh something about risks, something else about how the both of you are doctors. Oh and I distinctly recall him using the word 'bizarre'. Things to that effect anyway. I wasn't really listening." 

Molly snorted a little giggle at his response. "If John thinks this is bizarre, I can't wait to hear what he thinks about our plans for the placenta!"  

Sherlock smirked, glancing up at her from his laptop. "Ah yes, that _will_ be fun!" 

 

* * *

 

 

John was settled comfortably in his sofa, sipping his final cup of tea for the night with Mary snuggled against him, when his text alert chime broke the quiet of the room. He gave a startled look and jumped from his seat. 

"Sherlock?" Mary asked, already knowing the answer. He gave a sharp nod, staring curiously at the screen as if looking at it hard enough would make the words he was reading make more sense. 

"New case?" Mary inquired carefully. John's reaction still confusing her. He slowly shook his head and held is phone out for her to see. 

One text. Two words.

_It's time_

"Oh!" Mary smiled brightly then her face fell when she remembered everything Sherlock had told John about their plans. "Oh..."

"Are you sure you can't come along? It's just so..."

"Bizarre. I know. I don't really feel like dragging Jilly out for this, besides, I was there for my own labor. I don't really have a desire to be present for someone else's." Mary giggled softly, "Sorry, dear. I'm afraid you're on your own."

John blew out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, while working his hands through his hair. He steeled himself. He had been a soldier. He is a doctor. Not long ago he, himself, had become a father. He wasn't sure what it was about all this that made him so nervous? 

He knew Molly Hooper would be a fantastic mother. But Sherlock? He had used many words to describe his best mate. One of the more frequent words even began with the letter "F". 

 _Father_ was _not_  one of those words.

 

 

* * *

 

 

When John arrived at Baker street he was greeted in the foyer by a frantic Mrs. Hudson. She pulled him into a tight hug that squeezed the breath out of him. He gave her shoulder an awkward, gentle pat.

They broke apart when there was a loud crashing upstairs and a startled Mycroft practically fell out of the door to 221 B. He looked down at John and Mrs. Hudson at the bottom of the steps, with his face white as a ghost. In fact, John wasn't entirely sure, judging by his expression, that Mycroft hadn't just seen one. 

"I tried to warn you." Mrs. Hudson clucked, admonoshingly.

"Thank God you're here, John! Make those two see reason. This is just... just... _Barbaric_!" He practically stumbled down the steps.

Mrs. Hudson caught him and huddled him up. "Come along, I'll get you a nice cuppa and a biscuit. There, there" She ushered him into her flat, shushing him comfortingly. 

John gulped against a hard lump in his throat, suddenly unable to find the strength to bring himself up the steps into his old flat. The flat of his best mate, the flat his best mate now shared with his-his someone, that was now giving birth to his... Baby!? No too bizarre, all of this. Far too bizarre. 

He shook his thoughts away and treated it like any other odd thing he would have found up there when he shared this flat with Sherlock. 

In fact, this was all oddly normal for Sherlock. If he were going to do anything as ordinary as taking a romantic partner and becoming a father, of course he would do it in the way that caused the most panic. The way that would inspire the most hand-wringing and hair pulling in his friends and family.

He always did things like this and it nearly always worked out. And, although Molly had a rather poor track record when it came to standing up against Sherlock and his mad ideas, he very much doubted she would fail to do so at the risk of their child's safety. 

No if they were doing it this way it was because they'd considered every option and this was truly safe. And women had babies every day, had done since the dawn of man, just fine before hospitals. In the scope of human history as a whole, they were doing this in the most common way possible. 

John comforted himself with that thought as he bravely climbed the steps to the door. Upon reaching it he stalled, going quiet, hoping to hear something on the other side that could prepare him for whatever he was about to see. 

Nothing could have prepared him. Absolutely nothing. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

"I said get out, Mycroft!" Molly screeched.

Something whizzed past John's head and landed with a splat against the wall. She had ripped a wet wash cloth from her head that Sherlock had been using to cool her. 

"Sorry. Just me, Molly." John said softly, practically tip-toeing into the sitting room. 

Molly was sitting in the little pool in nothing but a sports bra, leaning against the wall of the pool with Sherlock, outside of it, holding her against his chest and murmuring what John could only assume was some kind of encouragement as she worked through a contraction. He was stripped to the waist and kissing her tenderly through the pain. Offering her a drink of water when he saw the struggle wash from her face, a small piece of chocolate when she'd finished gulping down the cool water and combing his fingers through her hair.

Aside from the strange peacefulness it all seemed normal. He tentatively edged closer until he reached his old chair, delicately easing himself into sitting. 

When the contraction was over Molly turned to John and smiled. Just a hint of weariness tinged her eyes. "Glad you could be here, John. See, I told you he'd come." Her last sentence was directed at Sherlock.

John looked more than a little offended. "You thought I wouldn't show? My best friend finally realizes he's human, pairs off with someone, makes a baby and you think I wouldn't be here to see it born with my own eyes?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Well it's not really your area, is it John?" 

John barked out a laugh. "You really want to discuss being out of our respective areas, Sherlock? Now of all times! Now that you-you're..." John waved his hand in Sherlock and Molly's direction. Sherlock was pushing another piece of chocolate past her parted lips, still brushing his fingers through Molly's long hair as she leaned against his shoulder.

"Do I look like I'm out of my area, John?" Sherlock asked flatly. Molly sighed out something rather like a giggle. 

John blinked several times. "No actually... You don't. What is that you're doing with the chocolate?"

Sherlock gave him a puzzled look. "Feeding it to her, of course! What else could I possibly be doing with it?" 

"No. I see that. I just mean..."

"She needs to keep her energy up and some studies indicate that chocolate helps stimulate the production of oxytocin." An unfamiliar voice announced from the corner of the room. John almost gave a yelp of shock when the tiny old woman sitting quietly, scribbling on a notebook made her presence known. She looked down through spectacles that were perched on the tip of her nose.

"As does the skin to skin contact and hair grooming. It's simple chemistry, John." Sherlock added.

"Ah! Here comes another one!" Molly shifted to her hands and knees so that she was facing Sherlock. He reached both hands down to squeeze the top of her hips together through the surge. It looked rough but Molly seemed to ease into his touch, looking slightly relieved, breathing more evenly despite the clearly hard contraction. 

John made a point to file that move for later in case he and Mary ever chose to have another. 

"How dilated is she?" John directed at the midwife, who looked up at Molly from her notes. She gave a shrug and simply said, "Not much longer now." 

The contractions were coming harder and closer together. If John had to guess he'd say she was likely in transition. "But when you checked last how dilated, effaced and-"

"Go stick your fingers in your own vagina if you're so bloody fascinated, John!" Molly bellowed into Sherlock's neck. He snickered quietly at his friend's shocked expression. 

Apparently all it took was her body forcing another human out of it to teach Mousy Molly how to roar. 

"Lots of pressure, Annie!" Molly announced to the midwife with a whimper. Sherlock rocked her gently, whispering in her ear. 

"That's just the bag of waters, dear. Nearly finished I should think. Would you like me to check?" She asked softly, reaching for a box of sterile gloves. 

"GOD!" Molly panted. "If this one ever lets up!" She clung desperately to Sherlock, her voice shaking. Sherlock was back to squeezing the tops of her hips. But she was too far gone to have any notable change in expression. 

After a moment her face softened and she inhaled deeply. Annie was at her side in a flash, reaching a gloved hand into the water.

"Little touch, you'll feel some pressure." Molly breathed raggedly as the midwife did her best to examine her gently, by feel alone. "Just as I thought. Complete. Bag is bulging a little, just waiting on baby now. You can push when you feel the urge."

"You're doing beautifully." Sherlock murmured sincerely, kissing her deeply before the next contraction. "You're so brave. So strong." 

"Why don't you just break the bag?" John asked. Sherlock shot him his signature 'Don't be stupid' look. 

Annie just chuckled and answered. "Well, what sounds better? Contracting around a squishy bag of water or a baby's knees and elbows?" 

John shuddered at the image that conjured. "Point taken."

Molly stiffened again but remained quiet. The only indication she was in another contraction was the shake in her breathing and the increased weight on Sherlock's shoulders as she went limp in his arms. 

She let out a startled "Ah!" And John could see slightly cloudy liquid billowing as it joined the water of the pool. 

"The bag broke." Molly whimpered, her voice tinged with a little dread at the knowledge that the next few contractions would come without the benefit of the shock absorption the water bag had provided previously.

"That's good." Sherlock assured. "Almost done." 

Molly cried out through gritted teeth as it was clear she was bearing down. 

"Don't clench, Molly!" Sherlock advised/ordered. 

"Oh fuck you! This is hard!" She whined. 

"You don't mean that. If you recall, that's how we got here in the first place." He chuckled softly. 

"Don't make jokes, Sherlock!" Molly groaned. 

John couldn't hide his amusement. _How the tables had turned._ John thought, harkening back to that Christmas when Sherlock had said those very words to her in this very room.

"I can see baby's hair!" Annie announced. "Just one more big push!" 

Molly took a deep breath and adjusted her stance on her knees, readying for the next surge. She clenched her eyes shut, dropping her jaw and moaning deep in the back of her throat. Sherlock watched her face, in complete awe of her. If John didn't know better he'd go so far as to describe it as worshipful reverence. 

"Reach down and catch your baby." Annie instructed. Sherlock's hands reached down into the water, between Molly's thighs. Barely a moment later he was pulling a round, pink baby out of the water as Molly gave a sigh of relief. He cradled the baby between them.

"Boy." He said breathlessly. "We have a boy." Molly's chest heaved like she was about to cry and Sherlock kissed her deeply, their newborn son bracketed between their bodies, still linked to his mother by the umbilical cord. 

The tiny pink creature let out a little startled squeak but did not cry, as he folded himself against his mum's chest, seeking the only familiar thing in this strange new world.

"We did it!" Molly sighed. 

"You did it." Sherlock corrected. 

John couldn't help but be moved at the sight of this brand new family, all together for the first time. He sniffed, fighting back tears and decided he needed to busy himself, somehow. 

"I'll go tell the others then." He said a bit hoarsely.

 

* * *

 

 

After about a half an hour of checking on Molly and baby, the midwife began to drain the pool and clear everything away.

Molly was lounging on the sofa with Sherlock, still shirtless and tugging his fingers through her hair gently. He was staring over her shoulder into the pudgy dimpled face of their son. Molly had him tucked into her chest, the folds of her dressing gown swaddling him around her. 

They heard footfalls coming up the stairs. Mrs. Hudson, John and Mycroft filed in to see the new baby.

Mrs. Hudson gave an adoring squeak at the couple nestled together with their new baby. She plucked a camera from seemingly nowhere and snapped a quick photo. Before Sherlock could scowl and ruin the picture.

"Lovely" she sighed, looking at the image she captured in the display screen. 

Sherlock didn't break his gaze from the woman in his arms or the newborn in hers.

"What's his name?" John inquired. 

"Thad." Molly answered, crooning down at her baby boy. Sherlock rolled his eyes, "Thaddeus." He corrected. "Thaddeus Hamish Holmes." 

"Hooper." Molly corrected snapping up to look at Sherlock in shock. "I thought we were over this. I don't want my children to have a different surname from me." 

Sherlock sighed. "Nor do I. They won't if you'd just marry me like I asked." 

This time Molly rolled her eyes. "If one person is vomitting during the proposal, it doesn't count." 

 "Fair enough." He conceded.  There was a long drawn out silence. The only sound was the tiny gurgles emitting from Thaddeus and the sound of Mrs. Hudson whisking around the room to take photos at every conceivable angle.

"Well, are you going to ask properly or not? I can have the paperwork finalized by tomorrow morning." Mycroft asked lazily, his voice colored slightly with annoyance. 

Mrs. Hudson bounced with excitement. While John looked as though he was about to faint. 

_What universe is this!?_

Sherlock just chuckled, deep in his chest. "No I think I'll pick a better time. John is looking a little shaky. If he vomits it will be another perfectly good proposal ruined." 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll happily own all my bias for this fic. I am a birth worker/choice advocate and I practice attachment parenting. If you're interested in attachment parenting or the science of attachment theory, please check out www.attachmentparenting.org
> 
> I'll also answer any questions to the best of my ability. :)


	2. Breastfeeding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things that are simple don't always come easily.

Molly put on a brave face but Sherlock couldn't help but observe how her toes would curl every time their son would latch to her breast. She gave a nearly imperceptible sharp hiss of breath and chewed her lower lip. 

Thaddeus was only a few days old and Molly was already concerned that her milk was not coming in. Unfounded, of course. Sherlock thought. There were no indications of an underlying issue that would affect milk production. It was probably just latent self-consciousness about her breasts carrying over into motherhood. 

No, what concerned Sherlock was not Molly's adequacy to produce. Instead he was concerned with his son's latch. It didn't look right compared to the images of a healthy latch he'd seen during his research. It was too shallow. Most concerning was the fact that it clearly pained Molly. 

"If it hurts we should get it looked at by-" Sherlock began.

"It's fine, Sherlock. Leave it! I am capable of feeding my child well enough on my own." Molly snapped. "You're welcome to have a go if you think you can do better."

Perhaps it was exhaustion of the past days of caring for a newborn or the hormones bottoming out after giving birth but tears began to prick her eyes. Sherlock wandered to the kitchen and returned moments later with a glass of water and two capsules.

Molly laughed bitterly, "Is this is your subtle way of saying I'm being irrational?"

"I don't require subtlety for that. Please take them. You know it helps." 

Molly eyed the gel caps but sighed and took them quickly gulping down the water as she did not care for the taste. 

Sherlock watched her take the capsules preparing to mentally log how long it would take for her to begin showing the effects of leveling hormones. Placentophagia was a fascinating practice he'd learned about during his research and had managed to talk Molly into trying it as an experiment. 

A fact, he was becoming increasingly grateful for as the days and nights bled together in the cluster of a newborn sleeping and feeding schedule. Which looked nothing at all like a schedule. He knew this would be the case. Babies, like any other person, will eat when they are hungry and sleep when they are tired.

There was nothing else for it but to try their best to cater to this brand new creature and his unique biological needs. Which mostly meant constant attention from his mum. Sherlock's role as a parent had been primarily relegated to Molly's care rather than Thad's. 

After a few moments of watching Molly nurse with his characteristic scrutiny, he noticed her discomfort increase so he decided to busy himself with reading and he felt Molly ease a bit. He did not want to give the impression that he was judging her somehow. About 10 minutes later her heard Thaddeus unlatch with a soft pop and Molly released a shaking breath of relief. After lowering Thad to her lap she reached for a tube of lanolin to gently apply to her tender nipples. 

Sherlock was concerned with the amount of raw, redness he saw there. She hissed as she applied the ointment liberally.

That was it. He was calling in an expert. Molly's pride be damned. She couldn't go on like this. He slipped into the stairwell and called Annie, their midwife. In a hushed voice, explained the issues. 

She gave a knowing sigh and notified Sherlock that she would be sending her staff lactation consultant to drop by that afternoon. All the better, no need to come up with a ruse for getting her out of the flat for an appointment.

He got up and offered to take Thaddeus so Molly could have a shower. She was too enamored with the idea of standing alone under a spray of hot water to notice that the offer was an uncharacteristically thoughtful gesture on Sherlock's part. 

She practically pushed Thad into his arms in her haste to run to the shower, giving him a rushed peck before disappearing behind the bathroom door. 

While she showered, Sherlock picked up around the flat as best he could with one hand, ordered Thai food and turned on the kettle. He set Thaddeus down to quickly dress in something more presentable than pyjamas and laid out some clothes for Molly. 

When she exited the shower she was too busy hurrying to their bedroom to notice Sherlock's preparation. She began to suspect something was off when a clean, soft maxi dress was laid across the bed. It had become one of her favorite garments during her pregnancy, with it's forgiving, yet flattering cut and a hidden shelf for support so that she didn't need to wear a bra underneath.

She didn't bother to question his reasons for laying out the nearest thing to proper clothes she could comfortably wear. He always did strange things like that. She dressed and plaited her damp hair before casually walking into the sitting room. 

Things became a bit more suspect when she saw Thad lain swaddled in his Moses basket and Sherlock dressed, rather like himself, despite wearing a long sleeved T instead of his usual button-up with his black trousers. There was also a plate of takeaway and a cup of tea waiting for her. 

She smiled. "You did all this while I was in the shower?" He nodded, grinning somewhat sheepishly. Molly melted. Sherlock really could be so wonderful when he had a mind for it. 

She already felt rejuvenated after her shower and now she had an opportunity to eat with both hands free. A meal she had to do absolutely no preparation for no less, while a gorgeous Sherlock Holmes sat beside her. This was heaven as far as she was concerned.

She dug in with gusto. Sherlock joined her, picking away at his own plate despite not being hungry. He found she was happier when he made an effort to at least appear to share a meal with her. He also made an effort at an adult conversation. They spoke on topics of mutual interest. Articles they'd read, various news items of the day and speculation of how Lestrade and the others down at NSY were fairing with Sherlock absent. She tried to steer them away from that subject immediately. She knew it wouldn't be long before Sherlock would go mad with boredom and with a baby in their flat she was more than her usual amount of apprehensive about weapons being fired indoors.

"I'm worried about Thaddeus." Sherlock announced, apropos of nothing. Molly bristled. 

"He's fine. You're just being neurotic." She bit out. This was Molly's go-to phrase when attempting to bat away his concerns. She was merely gaslighting, they both knew that but shots at his psychological stability were a low blow. She knew that, but it was her only defense.

He blinked, choosing to ignore her insult and plowed on. "Fine. Im worried about you." He amended. 

Molly sighed deeply. "That's sweet of you, love, but I'm great. Those capsules you made are really helpful, thank you." She tried to throw him off with a compliment and a warm smile. Dimples and ego-stroking always worked wonders when wielded carefully against him.

He couldn't help but stir a bit under her soft, loving gaze. She had him conditioned to respond favorably to this behavior but he needed to fight the urge to kiss her breathless and stay on message. "You're in considerable pain when you feed him. I think we should talk to a lactation consultant."

Molly loosed a labored sigh. "Not this again. Listen, Sherlock. Everything is under control. We're just getting used to each other that's all. I don't need some professional swanning in here to tell me everything I'm doing wrong. Yes, it hurts, but it's not that bad. I can handle it."

"I don't want you to handle it. And you're doing nothing wrong, aside from this ridiculous business of not wanting an expert opinion. Really Molly, you're a scientist. How long do you really think you can go on like this?" Sherlock said in his imperious tone, sinking further against the sofa. 

"I said no, Sherlock! Drop it!" Molly snapped rather loudly than she meant to, rousing Thaddeus who immediately began to fuss. Sherlock closed his eyes slowly, opening them when he was sure he could get the exasperation from them. Molly's reaction told him he hadn't quite succeeded. 

She rose to take him from where he laid and gently calmed him before seating herself with her horseshoe pillow to feed. She held him cross-cradle to the side that hadn't been most recently used (and thus, less recently abused) side but when she lowered the bodice of her dress Sherlock saw that since the last time she fed on that side, her nipple had become angry red with scabbed over cracks that would bleed as soon as Thad began to suckle.

Molly tried to keep her breath steady as she brought him to latch but couldn't hide the pained expression that took over when he took her nipple in his mouth. Tears rose in the corners of her eyes and she let out a shuttering gasp. 

"Molly..." Sherlock said calmly.

It was then the tears fell, her lip trembled and she sobbed. "You're right. I can't do this... I can't even feed my baby. What kind of mum am I?" She hunched over her baby, back heaving with the force of her weeping.

"I didn't say you can't." Sherlock corrected, draping his arm across her shoulder to gather her to his side. "I said you can't go on like this." He gestured to her. 

He saw tears fall on her nursing pillow leaving little wet spatter marks dotting the fabric. She nodded. "Ok. Call the lactation consultant." She sniffed.

There was a knock at the door and her head snapped up to look in the direction of the sound, then look at Sherlock. He wore a guilty smile. 

"Ah well, that's the thing... I already did. Before your shower." He confessed. 

Tears still spilling down her cheeks, she threw her head back and burst out in crazed laughter. "Of course you did. What was I thinking?" 

Sherlock rose to answer the door. The woman behind it was surprisingly young and dragging a bag that was about half as big as she was. "Hullo! I'm Lydia. Did someone call for a dairy fairy?" She chuckled with her distinctly Welsh accent. Before seeing the tear-streaked face of the woman inside. "Ah well... I'm here to give mum and baby Holmes a once over, see how everything is going." 

Sherlock stepped aside to allow her through and offered to take her bag. "You're sweet! Thanks, luv." 

She crossed the room and Molly gestured for her to have a seat. "So... Mrs. Holmes." 

"Ms." Molly corrected, " _Ms._ Hooper." 

Lydia cocked her head to the side. "Oh my, I hope I'm not in the wrong house. My paperwork says 'Mrs. Holmes, Baker street'. This is little Thaddeus?" 

Molly shot a look to Sherlock who was in the process of making himself scarce at the moment. "I'm sure it does. No you're in the right place. This is Thaddeus." She winced again as a shift in her position caused a new shot of pain to radiate through her breast like lightning. 

"Oh dear." Lydia said. "That's not something we like to see. Mind if I take a look?" 

Molly shrugged in assent, wincing again, immediately regretting the movement. Lydia took a pen from behind her ear and began simply watching Molly nurse Thaddeus, glancing down to take notes. She then began to ask questions, simple baseline background and medical history. She seemed please with her answers. 

When Thad finished, Molly offered the other side as she was meant to but Lydia held up her hand to stop her when she saw the state of Molly's nipple. She gave a tight knowing smile. "That must hurt." She said in a soft tone. 

Molly nodded. "It does." 

"May I touch?". Lydia asked hand poised to indicate she meant to reach toward her and Molly nodded.

Very gently, she gave a feather light touch to Molly's raw nipple. She examined carefully and then gave deep massaging presses into the fleshy upper tissue. She sighed and smiled.

"Everything checks out here." She said brightly, but Molly looked dismayed. "I need to examine your baby. Could you please undress him?" 

Lydia rose to dig through her enormous bag and pulled out a small scale. When he was fully undressed Lydia reached for Thad and placed him on the scale. She cross-referenced his current weight with his birth weight, then did a few reflex tests to check his muscle tone and flexion. Smiling warmly, she looked over to Molly who was visibly fighting the urge to stand up and begin pacing the floor. "So far, so good!" She assured Molly while snapping on a glove. 

At first she just placed her finger against his lips and he immediately attempted to suckle it. Then gently pressing her finger in his mouth to test his suckle she let out a quiet "hm..." 

Molly jumped up to hover behind her like a shadow as soon as that tiny, innocuous sound left Lydia's lips. Molly watched like an eagle while Lydia swiped her finger around Thaddeus's mouth, she sighed, removing her finger and snapping off her glove. "I've got bad news and good news. First the bad news, your son is severely tongue-tied. This means he's unable to thrust his tongue out far enough to get a proper latch. That's the reason you've been suffering with the cracked nipples and bleeding." 

Sometime during Lydia's speech, Sherlock appeared behind Molly pressing a comforting hand against the small of her back as fat tears began to roll over her cheeks. She took a moment to process everything Lydia was saying. Molly expected the lactation consultant to tell her there was something wrong with her. That all the inadequacy she feared she had throughout her life was culminating into this aspect of her womanhood. She was expected to be told she was a failure. And she was almost fine with that. But now she was being told that there was something 'severe' wrong with her son and that was an even more bitter pill to swallow. 

The air of the room had just become very heavy and somber until Lydia broke the lingering silence with her own merry pronouncement, "The good news is, he is gaining well. You are producing adequately despite the poor latch. Well done, you!" Lydia smiled and patted Molly's shoulder. Molly sniffed, nodding and giving a bit of a half-smile. "More good news, there's a very quick and simple procedure that can fix the tongue tie. It's outpatient, and he'll be able to nurse normally right after."

"A surgery?" Molly asked. 

"Hardly", Sherlock interrupted. "It's just a frenectomy it's a procedure where the doctor-"

"Cuts the frenulum to lengthen the tongue or lips. Yes, I've heard of it. Is it painful? Will it hurt him?" Molly asked Lydia. 

"Well it's not a day at the beach." Lydia admitted. 

"I won't do it if it will hurt him." Molly said resolutely. Sherlock sighed and crossed his arms, ready to break out into a tangent about Molly being unreasonable. 

Lydia gave a sympathetic expression but continued. "Ordinarily, I would simply tell you to massage the frenulum between feeds to get it to stretch. However, this tie is very tight and will likely cause a speech delay. It will need to be cut sooner or later. It's my opinion that it would be best for all of you if it's done right away." 

"Yes." Sherlock interjected immediately and with a fervency that took Molly by surprise. "Yes we will do it. When is the soonest it can be done?" For a mad second she was going to disagree, demand more information before she decided, but something about the frantic look on his face, as if he couldn't get it done quickly enough, gave her pause. 

Lydia fished a business card out of her bag. "Here's the number for a doctor that comes highly recommended. He uses a laser procedure that has a very limited likelihood of needing to be repeated." Reaching in again she took out a little packet with thin, plastic shells inside and handed it to Molly. "In the meantime, you'll want to nurse with these." 

While Molly was busied being instructed in the proper usage of nipple shields, Sherlock snuck into their bedroom to make the appointment for the frenectomy. He was even willing to call in a favor from Mycroft if it meant getting it done sooner. While he was in their room Lydia and Molly finished up and Lydia took her leave. 

Molly redressed Thad, he stirred, ready for another feed and Molly settled in to nursing with the shield for the first time and waiting for Sherlock to reappear from wherever he'd gone off to. A few minutes later he emerged from the bedroom, back in his ratty pyjamas, hair in disarray. He strode into the sitting room and dropped in his armchair, his head thrown back and an arm resting over his face.

"Everything alright, Sherlock?" 

 

* * *

 

 

"Hello brother mine, hadn't expected to hear from you so soon. Don't tell me you've already grown bored with playing at being the devoted paterfamilias." Mycroft's voice practically oozed through the phone. He was jibing but it was tinged with just a hint of worry. 

"Not now, Mycroft. I'm texting you the details of a doctor that we need to perform a procedure on Thaddeus. See that his schedule opens up." Sherlock hit send on a picture message of the business card Lydia left with them. 

Seconds later, Mycroft's text alert chimed and he took a moment to look over the details. "My, my the acorn really _doesn't_ fall far from the tree, does it, Sherlock? You and the good doctor certainly have your work cut out for you." 

Sherlock's jaw clenched. "Will you do it, or not?" He grit out, unable to disguise the tightness in his voice. 

"Yes, yes. Of course." Mycroft waved his hand while he spoke, his tone dripping with ennui.  "You needn't worry, Sherlock. I'll have my PA text you when it's done." 

There was a long pause as Sherlock released a few rattling breaths. 

"Sherlock." Mycroft followed the path Sherlock's thoughts were trailing down and knew he had to say something. "He'll be fine."

"Will he? What if he's like me? What if he has-"

"He won't." Mycroft interrupted. "We're seeing to it now. He's fine. Will be fine."

Another pause and Sherlock simply thanked him and rang off.

 

* * *

 

 "Sherlock..." Molly resisted the urge to get up and nudge him. 

"Yes. Fine." He snapped before remembering the difficult day Molly had he softened. "And yourself?"

"A little overwhelmed." Molly admitted. "A lot of information to process. I need to do more research on that procedure before I make a decision." 

Sherlock shot up straight. "What's to decide? We're doing it. There's no reason not to. Besides, I've already made an appointment. We take him in tomorrow morning." His voice had a tone of finality that Molly knew meant he would not discuss it further. 

"You can't do that." Molly bit out. "You can't just make decisions about our son behind my back."

Sherlock jumped from his chair, and began angrily pacing the floor. "Fine, waste your time doing your damned research. You'll only see that I'm right." And stomped out of the sitting room in a huff, slamming the bedroom door behind him. Molly jumped, a little startled by his extreme reaction to something so normal. Of course she would need to weigh the pros and cons when deciding what was best for her child. Why would he agree to parent a child with her if he wasn't going to respect her opinion enough to let her weigh her options?

Thad nursed well and Molly was pain free, thanks to the shield. It felt awkward and bulky at first but she got used to it and it certainly felt better than feeling like her nipple was being scrubbed with sandpaper. He nursed until he fell asleep. She decided to put him down in the cot in their room so she could discuss what was bothering Sherlock. Sleeping baby meant he would have to make an effort to explain himself calmly and rationally. 

Gently, she turned the knob of the door so that it barely made a sound when she opened it. Sherlock laid across their bed, and although his back was turned to her, she knew he was aware of her presence in the room. She nestled Thaddeus in his cot before laying down next to Sherlock facing him. His face was pinched in deep thought and his arms were crossed protectively over his chest. 

She reached out to stroke his face and he looked up at her to meet her eyeline, his features softened when he met her warm gaze. "What's the matter, Sherlock?"

"It's my fault." he spat out. 

Molly was confused. "What? Don't be silly."

"Speech delay. That lactation consultant, she said he would have a speech delay." He said as if that clarified everything.

"No" Molly shook her head, "She said he _could_ have a speech delay. Just because he's got this little tongue issue doesn't mean-"

"It does! It does mean he will. We have to get the frenectomy. We can't wait."

"You can't just make that decision on your own, we need to do this together. I need to know that this is safe for my son. I need to know that he will be better for it before I agree to let a stranger cut him!" Molly's emotions were beginning to well up again. This day had really been a rollercoaster ride and these damn hormones weren't helping. 

Sherlock let out a long sigh and rolled onto his back, unable to look at her. "Molly, I didn't speak aloud until I was 5. I couldn't until I had oral surgery to correct an anatomical issue. I never got the full details, but given what's recently come to light, probability is high that it was a related issue. Whether or not our cases are identical is irrelevant. I'm defective and I made our son defective. By virtue of the fact that he's my son, and he shares my defective DNA he's hurt you. He's left marks on your body and caused you no small amount of pain." His body radiated tension. He looked like a bow string, taut and likely soon to snap. 

She reached forward and twirled her fingers in the curls at the nape of his neck. She said nothing for a long moment just breathing slowly and tangling her fingers through his dark hair.

The same curls, that were already appearing in Thad's hair, only lighter, closer to Molly's hair color. She drew her fingertips over his arm and laced her fingers with his, snuggling close behind him. Thad has his father's long fingers, but his mother's small hands. She knew, over time, he would hone them into precision instruments under his father's guidance.

There were so many good things Thaddeus would have simply by virtue of the fact that Sherlock was his father. Certainly enough good to overshadow any of the bad. It pained Molly to think he might feel like a failure over that which he had no control.  

"I didn't want you to call the Lactation consultant because I was sure she would say there was something wrong with me." Molly spoke softly, stroking his hair with her free hand. "But when she said it was Thad who was having difficulty I was terrified. It was worse than thinking it was my fault. But even if there was an issue with me, it wouldn't have been my fault. All of these things are out of our hands. Just like it's not your fault or Thad's fault that you were born tongue-tied. The good thing is we know now, and we can decide what to do about it. Together." 

"It's a safe procedure, Molly. I think we need to do it now." He whispered hoarsely. 

"I respect your opinion, Sherlock. Can we just read a few studies about it first? Just for my peace of mind? I'm not questioning your judgement. I just need to know what I'm getting into." Her voice was almost pleading, she wanted him to understand, She can't shut off the new part of her brain that compels her to be protective of her baby. Even if that means going at odds with his father. 

He rolled to his side to face her and stroked her face. "Yes, of course we can read all the studies you want. You will see. It's safe. It's necessary." 

"Ok." She answered, reaching to grab the baby monitor from the nightstand. "Show me." And together they rose from the bed to research on his laptop. 

 

* * *

 

 The office, was quiet. No patients in the waiting room. After a short wait they were sent back to the office where the doctor was amiable, and kind. Respectfully, he listened and answered all of Molly's questions and eased her concerns.

He gave Thad another examination, sometimes lingual ties accompanied labial ties so he carefully checked his upper and lower labial frena. It seemed everything else was in order aside from the tongue tie. He agreed with their lactation consultant's assessment that this tie was tight enough to cause a future speech delay, and even difficulty eating when he was older. 

Sherlock's eyes widened as if another puzzle piece fell into place. Mummy always said he was "picky", compulsively so. A reductive word used to describe a real frustration he endured throughout early childhood. 

Texture aversion.

Throughout his life he felt like every sensory experience average people took for granted, or even failed to notice were calculated attacks against him. Today, he might have been labelled as having "sensory processing disorder". Back then they called it something else. "Special" or "Learning disabled". 

He was treated as an invalid and kept from school, seeing private tutors and doctor after doctor who simply shrugged and patted him on the shoulder patronizingly, complimenting his mother for doing all she could for him.

Mycroft called him "idiot" so much it became the name he gave himself in his mind.

It was a routine dental visit that inevitably changed his life. The dentist suggested a frenectomy and his parents readily agreed. He went home with gauze in his mouth and said his first intelligible words the next morning over breakfast. 

Where his own frenectomy was performed with a pair of scissors and no pain relief. His son was treated with a topical analgesic and a quick burst with a laser. 

The entire affair took less than 5 minutes and Thaddeus barely seemed to notice while it was being done. 

Sherlock thanked the doctor and enthusiastically shook his hand. He was sincerely grateful. 

When they arrived back at Baker street she was able to feed Thaddeus without the shield or the pain. Tears filled her eyes once again and Sherlock rose to get her capsules and a glass of water. 

She laughed and thanked him, and brought his head down for a tender kiss. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The capsules in this are encapsulated placenta. For more information you can check out:  
> http://www.placentawise.com/research-studies-supporting-placenta-encapsulation/


	3. Bedding Close to Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Addressing questions about their sleeping arrangements with a new baby and the unoccupied spare bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since this is pretty much the first question people ask when you tell them you co-sleep...

"Oh what a love!" Mary cooed stroking Thaddeus's chubby cheek with the back of her fingers before tracing his rosey lips with her fingertip. He squirmed in Molly's arms and grasped Mary's finger tightly. "Looks just like Sherlock doesn't he? Isn't that right?" Mary scooped him out of his mother's arms and held him up to nuzzle her nose against his.

"You look just like daddy, don't you? It's not fair!" Her voice was sweet as she spoke gently to him. "Mummy carries you around for ages, gives birth to you, feeds you and you come out looking just like daddy!" Molly eased into the back of the sofa, chuckling lightly.

"Next time you should bring Jillian to meet him! Let them have a proper play-date!" she suggested but Mary shook her head.

"Oh no. My girl has become quite a little terror lately. She nearly had to have stitches after a run-in with a cat whose tail she just couldn't resist pulling! I think we should wait before we give her a chance around new babies. Even squishy, bouncy ones!" She pinched at one of Thad's little rolls and he squealed a little giggle.

"He's four months! He's not quite that new." Molly reasoned. "Between the two of us, I think we could manage." 

"Yes, but the first time she gives him a hard thumping Sherlock will have my guts for garters!" Mary laughed. "Which reminds me, how is the conversion coming along?"

Molly's brows furrowed in confusion. "Conversion?" 

"Oh, I just assumed he would be converting John's old room into a nursery. Must be quite a hike for those late night feeds! I know those first months with Jilly I felt like a zombie and she was only one room over!" Mary sighed at the memory of trekking to Jillian's crib at all kinds of ungodly hours to feed her. "Once I nearly tripped and dropped her! Nothing like a good fright to get the blood pumping at 4 am, eh?"

Molly cleared her throat and looked over at Mary  quasi-guiltily, "I, uhm... well, that is... I wouldn't know actually. I've been getting wonderful sleep since he was born, except those first few nights before the frenectomy, of course." Molly winced and fought the urge to rub her nipples from phantom pains the memories evoked. "He's an excellent sleeper. Just lucky I guess..." Molly shrugged. 

Mary gave her an incredulous look. "He doesn't wake in the night at all? He doesn't look like he's missing any meals!" She gaped at the pudgy bundle trying to put the pendant of her necklace in his mouth. 

"Oh no, he rouses a bit. But he's just right there so I just turn over and he latches on. Before too long we both drift off. It's lovely having him there, snuggled up next to me. He's a cuddler, like his dad." She bit her lip and colored slightly at having divulged one more confession than she had meant to.

"Oh you're co-sleeping? Molly isn't that a bit dangerous?" Mary gasped. 

"Not really. I'm still nursing of course, and neither of us is on any drugs. Prescription or otherwise. I don't wear loose fitting clothing and I keep my hair up and back. No bulky blankets or excess pillows and the mattress is sufficiently firm. You know Sherlock, he did all the research and double-checked everything. It's lovely! The three of us cozy together." Molly beamed proudly. Sherlock really was shaping up to be a marvelous dad, sometimes she wondered how she got so lucky. 

Mary cocked her head to the side as she took a moment to comprehend everything Molly had told her. If they were taking precautions and being safe it made perfect sense that they would sleep with Thad in the bed. Johns' old room really was too far for an exhausted postpartum mum to have to climb to get to her hungry baby. Yes of course that's what they were doing. How could she have assumed otherwise? But then again...

"So what do you do if the two of you want to...?" Mary bit her lip. This was about to broach into business (not hers) territory. She and John had always made an effort to give the subject of Sherlock and Molly's physical intimacy a wide berth. They weren't at all a publicly affectionate couple. Neither she nor John had been aware they were involved, even when they announced they were moving in together. It was sort of assumed Molly was taking up John's old position as Sherlock's flat mate. It wasn't until a particularly awkward dinner, when they arrived early, and Molly exited Sherlock's room in her dressing gown that the penny finally dropped. 

Sherlock, naturally, gave his classic withering look and mumbled something about people seeing and not observing while Molly apologized, assuming Sherlock had already told them. It wasn't much longer from then Molly made a point to notify their circle they were expecting herself. Sherlock would only expect everyone to notice something innocuous and draw the appropriate conclusions, neverminding the fact that it's considered insulting to simply assume a woman is pregnant.  

The two of them had always been something of a surprise, of course Mary believed from the start that they would make a good couple if they could ever bring themselves to it, but had given up hope on Sherlock ever getting his head out of his arse. Since then, they both seemed hell bent on driving their friends crackers with all these mysteries and dramatic unveilings. 

No. Enough was enough. If she and this woman, the partner of her husband's best mate and godmother to her child, were going to be proper girlfriends, they needed to engage in proper girl talk. Mary resolved mentally to broach the subject. 

"Oh what the hell? What do the two of you do when you're in the mood for a shag?" Mary blurted out candidly. 

Molly nearly spat out the tea she had been sipping at that very moment. Her cheeks burned red as she sputtered and coughed, she thumped her chest with her fist until she could breathe. 

Mary immediately regretted the question. She was with a man who didn't even hold her hand in view of others, she couldn't imagine he was particularly affectionate, even behind closed doors. This was a man they had assumed was a virgin or possibly even asexual, before he and Molly had become a package deal.

After a moment Molly composed herself and looked distantly. "Uhm... well..."

"Forget I asked, Molly. It was rude of me. It's none of my business." Mary interjected quickly, readying to change the subject. 

"No, it's fine really." She assured. "I know Sherlock and I... I know people don't exactly always get us but-"

"Really, it's ok Molly. You've just had a baby 4 months ago... I know you're probably not feeling particularly sexy right now. I mean, who even has the time these days anyway? Especially with a baby taking up prime real estate in your bed." Mary rambled.

"Oh well actually..." Molly blushed and grinned, chewing her lip coyly, "Well the thing is, we barely even made it the full 6 weeks before we uhm..." She looked away then back at Mary with a telling expression. "Since then, it's been every chance we get. This morning, in fact, we-"

"But How?! When!?" Mary interrupted "Surely not with Thad right there-"

"Oh God no!" Molly assured. "No! Nononononononono... no..." She shook her head emphatically waving her hands in front of her. "He naps quite a lot, so we just put him down to bed and go... elsewhere..." Molly arched an eyebrow suggestively. 

"Right... Elsewhere..." Mary continued "Elsewhere like...?" She looked around the room before slowly looking down to the sofa where they were sitting together. "Oh God! Elsewhere like here?!" Mary squirmed uncomfortably on the sofa, lifting away from the back rest, trying to have as little of the sofa's surface touching her.

Molly chuckled softly. "Among other places. But yes." She confirmed with a shrug. 

Mary paled and shifted again. "Oh come on, Mary. That couch had been... you know... christened, long before Thad came along. We live together, we had a baby! Surely you must have guessed that we..."

"You said this morning! You said you and Sherlock shagged this morning! Please tell me you put a towel down on the sofa first or something!" Mary almost cried. Thad found her distress amusing because he was gurgling happily while gumming her finger tip. 

Molly burst out laughing "No! Of course not!"

Mary's face fell as she turned green.

"No we didn't do it on the couch this morning! We were in the shower." Molly assured. Mary sighed out a breath of relief. 

"Oh well then, that's good. I suppose there's not much chance of anything getting left behind anywhere I could find it then is there?" Mary attempted to lighten the mood with a soft chuckle. This whole new side of Sherlock Mary was learning about had thrown her for quite a loop. It wasn't that they did it that bothered her so much... It was that they were doing it so often! Who would have guessed? 

"And the second time was on the kitchen table..." Molly added with a smirk. 

Mary gulped "The second time? Where do you find the energy?! My goodness! I'm getting tired just thinking about it."

Molly shrugged and opened her mouth as if she was about to say something. 

"Wait!" Mary cut her off. "Molly... where did you make this tea?"

Molly chewed her lip again, looking away with a guilty expression before turning back to look Mary directly in the eyes finding her confidence, "Where do you think?"

Mary didn't touch her tea again after Molly's shocking admission and the remainder of her visit didn't last much longer after that. She was polite but obviously eager to leave rather hastily. She gave Molly and Thad a quick farewell and rushed out to head home saying something about getting there before Jilly and John make too large a mess. 

Sherlock returned hauling Tesco bags through the door and looked around. "Mary left already? I was sure she'd be here when I got back." He strolled into the kitchen unloaded his cargo on the table. 

"She asked why Thad isn't sleeping in John's old room and then well..."

She needn't say another word. The corner of Sherlock's lip curled as he followed that vague factoid all the way to the correct conclusion. "Ah..." He answered rumbled a low chuckle in the bottom of his throat. "I see..." and cast a lascivious grin to Molly who mirrored it back to him while Thad yawned and stretched in her arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dr. James McKenna runs the only Mother-Baby sleep laboratory of it's kind out of Notre Dame University. He is the leader in the research field of infant and maternal sleep behaviors and all his research is available for your personal edification here: http://cosleeping.nd.edu/ Regardless of whether you feel co-sleeping is right for your family, definitely have a safe co-sleeping contingency plan in place for those exhausting newborn months. Most co-sleeping related deaths happen in parents who find themselves accidentally co-sleeping in unsafe ways (i.e. on chairs or couches). Dr. McKenna's research and tips are invaluable to parents who are interested in bonding and aiding breastfeeding through sharing a sleeping space, whether it's room sharing, bed-sharing or the areas in-between. "Co-sleeping" is an umbrella term for all the ways in which parents share a sleeping space with their children. 
> 
> Also, Mary's confession of nearly dropping Jillian out of exhaustion while getting her for a late night feed is actually a true story that once happened to me. I almost dropped my son picking him up from his crib in a fog of exhaustion our first night home from the hospital. That's when I decided we needed to look into the option of bed-sharing safely and we've been doing that ever since.


	4. Babywearing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is kinda long. I hope that makes up for the forever it took me to finish it. This is pretty disgustingly fluffy so be warned!

"No more Molly, please! I'm begging you!" Sherlock called from their bedroom. Molly was busy arranging her hair, nervously preparing for her first day back at Bart's.

Maternity leave had been wonderful. Completely wonderful and life affirming...and a bit boring, if she was honest.

She felt so many things about returning to work. Excitement, anxiety, and yes, guilt. They could afford for her to stay home full time with Thad but she loved her career. Lots of women successfully managed both career and home. She'd worked so hard to get where she was she wasn't ready to put that on the back burner.

Sherlock said he would support whichever she chose. However the few cases he'd taken since Thad's birth six months prior, that required the use of Bart's facilities, had him returning home grumbling about incompetence.

Although he wouldn't say directly that it was due to Molly's absence, it didn't take a Sherlock level genius to know that was the real issue. It wasn't even that the staff was incompetent, just that she and Sherlock worked so well together. Hardly a word needed to pass between them, she was always able to intuit his needs. She found it endearing that he tried not to put pressure on her either way.

"What was that?" She called back to Sherlock, stepping out of the bathroom and into the sitting room to hear him better.

Poking his head out of the room he looked at her with a hilariously harried expression. "No more probiotics, please! You wouldn't believe the mess he's made in there."

"Want to bet?" Molly scoffed "And anyway they're good for him! 80% of the immune system is in the digestive tract-"

"I know that, darling! But he's still getting them from your breastmilk so there's no need for additional. Please! It's like a crime scene in there. I should call Anderson in to analyze the spatter pattern."

Molly couldn't help but laugh, she'd gotten over the initial shock of seeing Sherlock change nappies long ago. Now it was rather funny to see her fussy uptight partner manage a nappy change in his ridiculously expensive bespoke suits. 

"A crime scene in a nappy? I would think that'd be right up your street." Molly giggled. "Thad is already doing cases with daddy, how sweet!" Molly said in a playfully mocking tone.

Sherlock shot her his 'don't make jokes, Molly' face. "Please. I'm asking nicely, am I not?" He managed to curb his frustration somewhat.

"Fine", she sighed "But all bets are off come flu season." 

"Yes, yes good. Agreed." He waved his hand at her before disappearing into the bedroom once again to a squealing six month old. 

Moments later he joined her with a freshly changed Thad in his arms as she fussed in front of the bathroom mirror. 

"Is this a bad idea? This is a bad idea. I have some extra leave saved up I could-" Molly's hands trembled ever so slightly as she smoothed her hand over her ponytail for the dozenth time. 

"Relax, Molly." He placed his free hand on her shoulder. "There's plenty of milk in the freezer and we will join you on your lunch break." He assured. 

"You know not to warm it in the microwave." She reminded her voice only barely shaking.

"Yes, of course."

"No dangerous experiments, no taking him along on cases. Not even small ones."

"Yes, I know." Sherlock answered through gritted teeth.

"If you're called in for a case drop him off at the creche first. And text me! Don't just leave him there and forget to tell me-"

"Molly, honestly!" He was beginning to take offense at this point. He'd been doing this fatherhood bit for half a year now, he thought that would have earned him some faith.

 "I know, I'm sorry! Just jitters. I've never been away from him this long." She turned from the mirror stroking her son's cheek with her palm. He turned his face toward her hand and attempted to take a finger into his mouth to chew on. 

"It's a transition. It will be hard at first. It will get easier." He assured. 

_I don't know if it should._

The idea of it becoming easier to leave her son behind just didn't sit right in her mind, but there wasn't much for it. She was going to have to trust in the man she loved and the support system they had in place, to make their life work if she had any hope at all of finding balance.

Sherlock's eyes flashed with something like understanding. Of course he knew what she was thinking. And there was that guilt feeling again. This time guilt that she was hurting him with all of her doubts.

It was a vicious cycle. There was no way she was going to feel good about it right now. 

"Nothing is permanent, Molly. We'll just try it for now. If it's not the right time you'll come back and we'll wait longer." His  voice was low and soothing while his hand found the back of her neck, fingers toying with her hair, stroking lightly on the tender skin in the way he knew made her shiver. 

She closed her eyes, quietly accepting his comforting touch and releasing an anxious breath. 

"Okay." She whispered opening her eyes and smiling softly, feeling slightly relieved. "How do I look?" She squared her shoulders, presenting herself. 

"Very professional." He answered almost too quickly.

She raised her brow and gave him a slanted look.

"Why? Is there some other consulting detective whose fancy you're hoping to catch?" He joked. 

Molly scoffed. "Heaven forbid there should ever be two of you! One is quite enough for me, thanks." She smirked and raised up on her toes to place a soft kiss to his mouth before exiting the bathroom to gather her things.

"Well when the mother of his child refuses to marry him, a man tends to wonder." He responded, following her out into the sitting room.

"I haven't refused, Sherlock because I haven't been properly asked." Molly stated double checking that she had all her necessary items in her handbag. 

"What? Yes I have!"

"Muttering 'I suppose this means you'll want to get married.' While I'm bent over the loo hurling my guts out, is not properly asking. By definition, it's not asking at all." Molly's eyes darted around the room. "I feel like I'm forgetting something."

"Of course it is! What else would you call that?" He balked. Thaddeus babbled in response.

"I would call that a supposition." She answered looking at her watch. "I need to leave or I'm going to be late."

Shrugging into her cardigan and slinging her bag over her shoulder she turned on her toes to give her boys a parting kiss each. "Be good."

"We'll do no such thing." Sherlock answered with a smirk.

Molly rolled her eyes "Goodbye. Love you!" And with that she was out the door.

 

* * *

 

Mrs. Hudson nearly crashed into Molly as she rushed out the door. Remembering this would be her first day back since Thaddeus was born she called out a quick "good luck, dear!" to Molly's disappearing form. Sighing, Mrs. Hudson returned to her flat to put the kettle on.

Several minutes later she was climbing the steps to 221b carrying a tray. Bringing food had always been a guise in which Mrs. Hudson could enter her eccentric tenant's flat to check on him. Now it seemed of particular importance given Sherlock's current lack of cases and the presence of a baby. 

When she arrived at the door she saw Sherlock pacing the floor muttering to Thaddeus something about "Silly mummy" but his tone sounded more agitated than playful. 

"Hullo boys!" Mrs. Hudson greeted as she entered the room at set the tray down.

"Ah! Perfect! Mrs. Hudson, I need you to mind Thad for a short while." He said as he held his son out to her. "Molly's forgotten her pump."

"I'm afraid I can't, dear. I'm off to Women's Institute. Besides weren't you going to take him with you to Bart's at lunch? Hardly makes sense to leave him here with me to drop off the pump only to come back and leave again. Just wait until lunch and you can bring them both then."

 _Unacceptable_. Sherlock thought as he went over the pumping schedule in his mind. She will need to pump in the next 2 hours or she would be engorged and requiring a fresh shirt by her lunch break. Her feelings about returning to work were already very mixed, and though he truly did not mind her staying home full time if she chose, he knew she didn't really want to. Not to mention that her returning to Bart's had benefits for him and his work. No the first day could not go badly. She would see it as a sign that the time is not yet right. In the end he knew what had to be done. 

"Alright." He sighed settling Thad into his exersaucer while he gathered the needed supplies. 

Sherlock gathered her pump and accessories into the bulky black carrying case, then Thad into his car seat, then the nappy bag John had given him as a gag gift not thinking Sherlock Holmes would ever be caught dead carrying a bag that said "Diaper Dude" on the label. 

With everything gathered, he hauled the cross-body strap of his nappy bag over his shoulder, gripped the handle of Thad's car seat and then looked down at the bulky pump bag and wondered how he could carry everything and hail a cab. He could take the tube but hauling all this down to the tube station seemed even less manageable. Besides it made him uncomfortable to think of Thad in the car seat being swung at arse-level with the population of London's commuters. They had a pram but it hardly seemed helpful given the presence of stairs and how would he get it into a cab?

Then he spotted it, bundled in the corner. He rolled his eyes when she'd first bought it. The yellow and black sling with the floral pattern and the silly birds decorating it. She made him eat his words after Thad became colicky and needed to sleep upright. Or when he'd come home and found the flat in a better state than he'd left it because Molly had a fit of energy with Thad happily snuggled at her chest. 

He held it up with two fingers as if it were a piece of evidence, appraising it carefully. It was ridiculously twee, but more importantly, incredibly utilitarian. While carrying an infant in a floral papoose through the streets of London was not the carefully cultivated image of a consulting detective with an international reputation. He was not going out as Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective, but as Sherlock Holmes, Thaddeus' father. When he considered it that way, it was clear that was his best option. Really it was his _only_ option. 

A quick YouTube tutorial and one or more false starts had Thad snugly settled against his chest, the fabric of the sling supporting him knee-to-knee with his hips flexed against Sherlock ("like a frog", the tutorial advised). The rings of the sling secured in the fleshy front section of his shoulder to prevent uncomfortable digging.

He glanced at himself in the full-length mirror of his bedroom and did a few test-bounces to insure Thad was not a wrong move away from tipping out. He'd dressed rather casually, dark wash jeans and a grey long-sleeved tee, he'd hoped would be sufficient to prevent him from being recognized and snapped by the paps while carrying his son about. After further consideration, he decided to tuck his curls into a newsboy hat and add a pair of mirrored aviators. 

Stepping out onto the concrete outside his flat without immediately being accosted by a photographer was a pleasant surprise. Mycroft's people had made surprisingly efficient work of discouraging photos of their child in the media, a fact he was exceedingly grateful for. Still, he sprinted briskly away from the door, distancing himself from Baker Street would decrease the odds of being recognized by a passerby.

Thaddeus giggled as he bounced in time with his father's long strides, turning his head to peer around and take in the sight of the passing cityscape from the unique vantage of his father's chest level, cooing and gurgling his observations up at him. Sherlock laughed as his chubby fists flailed for emphasis. Sherlock took a deep breath of spring air, looking up at the clear skies. Cool breezes lapped at his face and he thought it was rather a nice day for a walk. Instead of hailing a cab he opted to walk the extra few blocks to the tube stop and give Thaddeus his first experience with trains. If all went according to plan, Thad would have all the tunnels and stops memorized in just a few year's time. He delighted at the thought of showing him all the secret nooks and doors of the disused lines. 

He smiled wistfully while stroking his son's curls as he cuddled more deeply into the sling, burrowing into his father's warmth. Thad's eyes started to droop, being lulled to sleep by the rhythm of his father's breathing and the steady clacking of the carriage along the tracks. He slid his hand from the top of his son's head to his back to feel his chest expand as he filled his lungs with deep, peaceful breaths. Each one felt like a gift, a son he thought he would never have with the woman he'd never dared hope could actually love him. He felt a frightening amount of things all stimulated by this small person nestled to his body, this person who loves him and relies on him for everything. The end of his nose stung he sniffed and felt an entirely unrelated prickle in his eyes. Allergies, you know. 

His moment was cut short by a shrill statement of the obvious.

"Your baby is _so_ cute!" Sherlock spied the woman in his periphery, scanning her from head to toe, reading her. Natural blonde, unnatural candy-pink lips in an airy sundress and wedge heels. He saw it like a red "a" sewn to her bodice: Daddy Issues. Although he didn't feel obliged to judge. By his calculation, "father issues" accounted for at least 30% of what initially attracted Molly to Sherlock. 

Sherlock merely nodded in acceptance that, yes indeed, Thaddeus was an exceptional human specimen without encouraging further conversation. 

"Boy or girl?" she pressed, smiling brightly, leaning forward slightly as if to more easily peer at Thad but also to showcase her breasts. Ugh. Tedious. And she asked a question that requires a verbal answer. 

"Boy." He answered, disinterested.

"Aww! He's beautiful! You seem like _such_ a good dad!" She slid closer to him, she put her hand on his knee under the guise of steadying herself against the bumping of the train. Sherlock had to fight the urge to recoil at the unwelcome touch. 

"Oh. Oops." She blushed but took her time moving her hand. 

"In what ways?" Sherlock asked, causing her to furrow her brows in confusion.

"Sorry?"

"You said I seem like a 'good dad'. In what ways do I seem like a 'good dad' to you?" He asked catching her with his scrutinizing gaze.

"Uhm well... You're out with him, carrying him, with the nappy bag and... everything." 

Sherlock quirked his brow. "Your criteria for an adequate father is that he holds the child, and carries the accessories necessary for the care of the child? Seems like you've set the bar awfully low." His answering voice a listless monotone. 

"Okay." The woman crossed her arms defensively. "So sorry for trying to suggest you're a good father. My mistake."

Sherlock shook his head. "It's not your conclusion I object to. Quite the opposite, I _am_ a good father. It's your process for determining that I am a good father, I object to. The information you took as proof of my excellent fathering was incidental and unrelated to my abilities to parent. For example: there is a mother at the other end of the carriage carrying her shopping and a sleeping toddler, yet you do not feel compelled to comment on her rather stellar show of parenting ability. So look again, take a good look and tell me why you think I am a good father."

The woman was taken aback, eyes wide, she took a moment to formulate an answer. "The way you look at him..." She began after a beat. "Your smile. It's obvious you really love him."

"Obvious.", Sherlock agreed, "What else?"

"H-he looks healthy... developmentally on track so you must take good care of him." She added. 

"Yes well, I can't take full credit for that, I'm afraid. Nearly all his feedings are provided by someone else." Sherlock gestured to the breast pump beside him. 

"Well you must care a lot about nutrition if you're going to such an effort to ensure he has breast milk." She pointed out. 

"Really? Is delivering a device that expresses breast milk such an effort compared to being the one responsible for making said milk? Try again."

"I-I don't know what you want me to say, man. Alright?" She rose her hands in surrender. 

"How about what the device implies? How about what the floral print on this sling implies? How about what the genetic amalgam _inside_ the sling implies? That this child has two parents. A father _and_ a mother. A mother who carried him in her body and gave birth to him. A mother who currently provides the milk he thrives on. Everything good you see about this child is due to her superior effort. But you are right. I am a good father." At some point in the middle of the speech, Thaddeus began to stir and Sherlock patted his back comfortingly. "Because I love my son's mother. I support her and stand by her, if I am a good father it's because of her. So please, I am not the one for you to work out your daddy issues on. If you would like I can recommend an excellent therapist." 

Sherlock winced waiting for the expected shout of pejoratives and hasty exit that usually followed these types of interactions, but just then Thad awoke, yawning and stretching in the sling, looking up to find he was still held close to his father and smiled a gummy smile. Next a remarkable thing happened, he turned to the young woman and favored her with a sweet giggle. She looked as if she deflated. Her face turned red as she heaved in a combination giggle and sob. Dear Lord she was crying, okay maybe this is worse than the shouting and swearing. Sherlock froze, feeling around for his customary handkerchief, yet he was without due to his lack of a suit. Instead he reached inside his nappy bag and offered her a baby wipe. She laughed quietly, taking a wipe from the offered case and using it to mop up the tracks of tears that now fell uninhibited from her eyes. 

"Thank you." She sighed, sniffling into the wipe. 

Sherlock looked puzzled. "For what?"

She shrugged and shook her head as if she was confused herself. "I dunno... I guess I just needed to hear someone tell me 'no', a man who cares enough about his wife and child to put their home ahead of his own desires. It's... it's nice."

Molly was not his wife, and even if she or Thad were not in the picture the answer would still be 'no'. But she seemed to be making some kind of personal breakthrough. And, he'd decided that this was not actually worse than the shouting and swearing. It was... well he didn't have a word for it but when he looked at her now: Natural blond hair, unnatural candy pink lips, airy sundress and wedge heels, the story his deductions told a far sadder story than he had seen initially. Wealthy man's secret lovechild, always in the shadows of his real family. Slung uncomfortably between privilege and poverty, always out of place. A hard-working university student with excellent marks. Aplways trying to make a stranger proud enough to call her 'daughter'. He saw a vulnerable child a careless man was too selfish to love. When he felt his son against him shift he knew he could never be such a man. He reached out and patted her gently on the shoulder, fishing his wallet from his back pocket. He drew out a business card. 

"This is the card for that therapist I mentioned. She's very professional and owes me a favour. If you're interested..." He then took a pen from the bag and began writing on the back, "Give her this card. She will offer her services at no charge." 

Her eyes were wide and mouth agape as she eyed the card in his hand. She stared for a long moment, so long Sherlock began to wonder if he'd over-stepped. She took the card just before he began to withdraw his hand and examined it closely. She turned it over to read Sherlock's scrawl along the back and realization dawned on her. 

"You! You're Sherlock Holmes!" She gasped. "The boffin from the papers!"

Sherlock pulled a face, gesturing with his hands for her to keep quiet, he was not interested in being mobbed on the tube with Thaddeus on his chest. Fortunately the train came to a stop. And he hastily gathered his things to exit. 

"Thank you!" She called after him but he soldiered forward, only trying to escape further recognition. 

He emerged onto the street with quite a bit of a walk remaining as he'd exited one stop early. Still, the day was as lovely as ever and Thad didn't seem to mind the journey. 

After a few blocks he crossed in front of a boba tea cafe. He wondered if Molly had ever had Boba tea, it certainly seemed like the type of thing she'd enjoy. He could picture her with the little cup sipping pastel liquid from a garish straw, giggling when she catches a little bubble between her teeth. He found the image so endearing he couldn't think of a reason not to experience it in reality. 

He turned on his heels, ducking into the cafe. He ordered a green tea with mango boba for them both and a matcha cake they could share. Loathe as he was to admit it, he too, was afflicted with the Holmes sweet tooth. 

And since Thad was due for a feed Sherlock thought there was no better time than while he awaited their order to give him his bottle of thawed milk from the cooler bag. He scrolled through his phone, checking his email. Nothing much worth his time there. Of course his time came at a premium these days, as it took far more to compel them him to leave his family for more than a few days.

The workers at the cafe packed everything in a little cardboard case with handles, taking a moment to grin at Thaddeus. Who, of course responded with his typical diplomatic grace and a milky toothless grin. John had taken to calling Thad the "Ambassador" for his ability to make Sherlock easier to deal with. His son's easy enthusiasm for others made it extremely difficult to be a grump. He even felt compelled to wave as they exited the cafe.

It was nice, walking along with Thad, taking in the sights of London without being in a mad rush. He was noticing things he'd never bothered to before. Like how many shops there were on this street. How long had they all been there? How had he not noticed them before now? He passed by one trendy sneaker store. He wasn't the sneaker type but he knew a bit about sneakerhead culture and he had to admit, there were worse things to be obsessed with. He decided to drop in maybe gather some new data that could come in handy. 

He was side-tracked however when he spotted a t-shirt on a mannequin that said "Screw Your Lab Safety I Want Super Powers" and immediately went to see if they had it in his size. He procured the correct item and smiled to himself about how Molly would laugh when she saw it, forgetting completely that he had intended to browse and maybe ask a few questions. All he could think when the cashier handed him the bag with the shirt inside was that he needed to get to Bart's right away to see Molly. 

The rest of the trip went by quickly as he took the most direct route to the hospital. He caught the elevator down to the morgue assuming that's where Molly would be but to his shock she wasn't there. He shrugged and took the stairs up to the lab, not wanting to wait for the elevator.

He arrived to a wide eyed internet sighing in relief. "Thank goodness you've arrived! She... She won't come out and there are 4 new bodies waiting to be processed."

"Why won't she come out?" Sherlock asked, puzzled.

The intern shrugged. "I don't know." She rapped on the door. "Doctor Hooper, your husband is here."

"He's not my- oh sod it!" She shouted through the door before he heard the lock disengage.

He entered and shut the door behind him. Finding Molly in a frightful state. Tear tracks ran down her cheeks and she was hunched in on herself with her arms crossed.

"Molly, what's wrong?!" He skirted past her to set the little box from the cafe down before touching the small of her back, lovingly. 

"Today is just not my day!" She sniffed, opening her arms to show that the front of her tunic dress was completely soaked with milk. "I forgot my pump and my breast pads were in the bag ah- oh you perfect man! You absolutely, wonderfully, perfect man!" Molly enthused when he laid the pump on her desk demonstratively. She immediately dove for it, getting her breast pads from inside one of the pockets. 

Sighing after situating them inside her bra she gestured to the tunic top. "Thank you darling. Too bad I can't do anything about this top."

"Actually..." He held up the bag with the shirt he had bought for himself to make Molly laugh. 

Laugh she did when she read the text on the shirt and held it up to herself. Against her petite form it was the length of a short dress. Fitting as the only thing she'd worn beneath her tunic top was a pair of leggings. Now changed into the clean T-shirt, Molly stuffed the milky top in her bag. Now changed and dry she took Thaddeus for a cuddle while Sherlock arranged the teas and cake on her desk.

"You're a life saver!" She said, beaming at him, eyes gleaming with gratitude.

"That's a new one." He laughed. 

"I mean it,  Sherlock. I was so miserable thinking this day was ruined. But you're always there when I need you, most. I love you. So much." She had never felt more relieved to be holding her son, wearing a ridiculous t-shirt, stuffing her face with cake. Her unpredictable appetite hadn't leveled off yet and she often found she could go from zero to seriously considering cannibalism in no time at all.

He sipped his own tea, amusedly watching her tear into the cake while handily avoiding Thad's interference. He would offer to take him so she could have free hands, but something about the greedy way she snuggled him to her body said she just needed a moment with him. He would give her that, and more, she didn't even have to ask.

"I love you too."

Once upon a time Molly was the one who always knew what Sherlock needed, even before he did. Now he liked to think he was catching up to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes there really is a brand of diaper bags for men called "diaper dude". This is the one John got for Sherlock: http://www.diaperdude.com/shop-now/diaper-bags/navy-skull.html#.VVDjPPlVhBc


End file.
